


Commensurate

by tcheschire



Series: Hearth - Winter Fluff 2020 [6]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Bubble Bath, Established Relationship, F/F, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, It's Just Sweet Fluff, Mild Hints of PTSD Recovery, Winter Fluff Challenge 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28291080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcheschire/pseuds/tcheschire
Summary: It's a rare instance when Mai uses the apartment key you gave her, and you use the opportunity to give her the gift you had gotten her. What do you even get for the woman who can get whatever she wants?Day Six - Gift Giving
Relationships: Kujaku Mai | Mai Valentine/Reader
Series: Hearth - Winter Fluff 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2063934
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Commensurate

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all and welcome again to our winter fic-a-thon! Today's fic is set after-Doma, and has 1 (one) single Culture Shock reference in it, but can absolutely be read on its own.
> 
> Enjoy, and as always, feel free to check out the [masterlist up on my Tumblr](https://tcheschirewrites.tumblr.com/post/636907897154076673/winter-fluff-masterlist) for what's up next!

You were _tired_.

It was to be expected, working retail in a gaming town like Domino over the gift-giving holiday season. You could occasionally get yourself into the occasional group board game, if they were brought out at parties, but you would not consider yourself a gamer. And certainly not a duelist – you knew exactly enough to say things like _this booster pack has been popular lately_ or even such specifics as _I think Kaiba has cards from this set_. Your customer service training was well vetted, and you knew how to parrot and how to catch trends, and if there was one thing this city loved, it was its duelists.

You understood the appeal, certainly, having watched your fair share of televised events with the rest of your friends and family. They were magnificent in the thick of it, splendid and shining and majestic – it was real easy to see where a lot of the hero-worship came from.

You wiped your feet on your welcome mat, sliding the key into the door to your apartment.

“ _Tadaima_ ,” you called out quietly to the empty air.

And you were struck immediately by the heaviness of heat and moisture in the air – once, carefully, you sniffed the air and detected a hint of floral perfume. Depositing your coat and scarf on one of the barstools by the counter, you crept along the hall, following the distinct sound of echoing music.

You smiled softly at the light under the door.

You knocked once, gently pushing the door open, and a little more clearly, you said, “ _Tadaima_.”

Mai did not lift her head from the makeshift pillow towel, but she did crack one eye open and reach over to turn her music down. “Hello,” she responded, settling further down into the bubbles covering the surface of the water and stretching out her legs on the lip of the tub, crossing them at the ankle.

Sitting on the lid of the toilet, you canted your head. “I didn’t know you’d be here,” you admitted.

“You were the one who gave me a key,” was her reply. Then, turning around to face you, crossing her arms over the edge of the tub, “Why, do you not want me here?”

The sparkle in her eye and the dulcet tone of her voice drew another soft smile from you, earnest, and you shook your head. “Just wasn’t expecting it. Not that you ever give me any warning or anything, just was thinking you’d be gone longer.”

Mai hummed noncommittally, shifting back into her lounging position; she draped her arms over the sides of the tub in a way that arched the space between her shoulder blades.

You couldn’t be entirely certain when Mai had waltzed her way into your life, and you think she preferred it that way sometimes – she orbited in and out of your periphery for long enough, until one day at a party or a work event or a late night dive you had met, and you made her laugh.

She was one of the only duelists you could identify by both name and face, and you admired her fire you told her then – and when she responded with rote politeness, the simpering smile of a woman who has done this too many times, you admitted that you admired her legs too. This drew her short, and before she could wheel on you for an explanation, you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck, and inspected your drink. ” _Stronger than I thought. Sorry about that!_ ”

You separated that evening on just-better-than-awkward terms, but the next time she saw you, at some or other event or bistro or _god you couldn’t even remember,_ she approached you with the brusque manner of someone who had been waiting on a friend who was late, looked you up and down once, and announced that your legs were better than hers, but that her ass was tighter.

You had raised your eyes at the challenge, at a loss for words for a moment, before finally saying, “ _I mean, I’m not sure about that. Will you turn around for me?”_

The timeline blurred a bit for you there, but it certainly wasn’t long before you saw her regularly at work events and after tournaments, and from there it was a short trip to having her over to your apartment. She was very clear from the first, peeling off her vest and boots at the door, that the arrangement was nothing permanent, was nothing special – you had grinned wide, drank in the heat of her, and had said, “ _Whatever you want, ma’am.”_

Over time, it became slightly less impermanent, slightly less unimportant, and though she never put a name to it, you were fine with what you had. The key had been a formality, honestly, one that you had never expected her to use.

“Does this mean the shoot went well?” You leaned back on your makeshift seat. The only details she had given you before she had disappeared were that she was going overseas to film a perfume commercial – though she sounded nonchalant about it, you felt from the undercurrent in her voice that she was actually excited for the opportunity, and you had filled in the gaps of her excitement.

A grunt. “As well as it could,” she answered, fingers skimming the surface of the water absently. “Australia was hot, of course, but the location of the shoot was gorgeous, and I now have a lifetime supply of _Paon violette_ eau de parfum. It was a nice vacation,” she added, an afterthought.

You nodded, bringing your hands up to basket your head. It had taken you a little while, but you thought you had become pretty good at interpreting the subtext under her words. “So you missed Domino?” you attempted to fill in the blank.

“Hah,” she huffed a laugh. “Not as such, darling. I missed _dueling_. The modeling scene is fun every so often, but I belong at the top with the rest of them.”

You hummed, nodding along. Another message in a message, and a common thread. “So have you selected your next tournament? Get your name back out there?”

“All that’s available right now is small potatoes,” she griped, waving a hand. “I’d clean them out like that,” she continued, snapping her fingers in emphasis. “I want something meaningful.”

You nodded again, opening your mouth to respond – before you had the chance, though, she tilted her head back toward you, cocking a brow invitingly.

“Now how long are you going to keep me waiting before you join me in here?”

Your mouth closed with a _snap_ of teeth, and your lips curled into a slow, easy grin. It did sound nice, even without the company – you were tired, you were sore, you were cold. And you were certain the solution to each of those was already present in the tub.

You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead, before holding up a single finger. “Hold that thought,” you told her, launching off of the toilet seat to run to your bedroom. Though you had not expected her to be back in the city quite so soon, you had been prepared for weeks, having scraped and saved and called in favors from friends of friends of friends. You paused, hesitating before your bedside table before sliding the drawer open and gently retrieving the small rectangular gift box. There was the briefest moment of insecurity, second-guessing yourself, and you took in a deep breath, exhaling it on the way back to the bathroom.

Despite holding the box at your side as casually as you could, Mai’s eyes zeroed in on it immediately.

“What’s that?” Caution, certainly, but also curiosity.

Shrugging in a outward show of nonchalance, you found your seat once more on the toilet seat; you held the box delicately in your hands. “Just something I picked up. I thought you might like it.”

Mai’s face was a mask – uncharacteristic, you noted, as she usually shone with vibrance, expressing as the very least some nuance of what she was thinking, if she wasn’t outright saying it.

You grinned again, this time a mite shyly. You held the box out for her to take. “Go on, open it.”

“You didn’t have to.” She did not move to take the box.

Ah, that’s what it was.

You acknowledged, in your heart of hearts, that there was a gap in your social statuses. It didn’t take a genius to put it together – she just got back from a photoshoot and a commercial for a perfume, she was a world-renowned duelist. Meanwhile, over the holidays you had taken on a slew of double shifts at your neighborhood’s game emporium for some extra pocket cash. It was never said outright, nor even hinted at or implied, but the rift was there whether you talked about it or not.

And she felt…guilty? Put on the spot?

You shifted off of the toilet seat to crouch near the edge of the bathtub. “It’s all right. Here, I’ll open it for you.”

Your fingers moved to lift the top of the gift box, and very abruptly her hand clapped down on your, and you could see that expressiveness coming back out; Mai had turned quite red, and something clicked in your mind.

You had to laugh. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing flashy, but I really think you’ll like it. Will you open it, or do you want me to?”

She remained flushed, but considered for a moment. “Fine,” she finally decided, her chin lifting just slightly. Her hand remained still, fingertips just brushing the edges of the box, and she flicked her eyes to yours sharply, a threat. “If it’s expensive, I’m taking it back.”

A laugh burbled from your throat, and you rose just enough to sit on the rim of the tub. “Will you just open it, already?” you urged. “Come on, I’ll do it for you. Here.”

But she brushed your hands off with another warning glance, lifting the lid of the box gently. Inside was a lanyard clipped to a plastic covered card pass. Mai’s brow furrowed at the duelist portrait that smirked up at her, and very gently she lifted the pass out of the box, running the pad of her thumb over the KC symbol embossed on the corner. Canting her head, she turned the pass over, finding the text on the back to be French. “Wh – ?”

“It’s for a launch tournament in Bordeaux,” you quickly explained, gesturing. “KaibaCorp is launching some game or some app or whatever over there, and they’re holding like a mini tournament to celebrate. It’s not like a big name tourney, but it’s definitely not small potatoes. Rumor has it,” you continued, somewhat breathless and out of your element, “that the winner gets to duel one of the Kaiba brothers.”

That got her attention. “Kaiba? He hasn’t been in a tournament in years.”

You simply shrugged, smiling at her excitement. “That’s the rumor.”

Mai turned her body to face you, tucking her legs underneath her and gripping the pass, shaking the pass slightly. “If Kaiba’s dueling, then there are sure to be other big names participating – it may have been a while, but the duelist community would never give up the chance to pound on Kaiba. This is fan _tastic_ , how did you even get this?” A suspicious glimmer lit up her face. “How much money did you spend?”

You covered her hands with yours, placing another kiss on her forehead. “Don’t worry about it, it was mostly favors. I paid the entrance fee, but that’s about it.”

She took a moment to consider your answer, possibly comparing the amount versus whatever amount was over the limit in her mind. After the moment’s deliberation, she seemed to come to the decision that it was acceptable, and she nodded at you with a soft smile. “This is wonderful, thank you.”

You smiled back, then poked at the box, somewhat abashed. “That’s not all.”

“What? No, you don’t need – “

“I didn’t spend any money at all on this one, but…” You poked it again. “Consider it a…token?”

“A token?”

“Like a favor?”

Mai craned her neck to peer into the box, then delicately lifted the thin silver chain, the coin dangling from the end. “What is - ?”

“It’s a St. Christopher medallion,” you rushed, taking it from her gently. “It’s for, like. Travelers and…” you hesitated before continuing haltingly, “people who may have lost their way. It’s been in my family for a couple generations, we pass it around whenever one of us goes on an adventure.”

Through your explanation, Mai’s eyes remained locked on the medallion, swaying in the air merrily. She remained silent, simply tracing its movement – she seemed quietly stunned, weighing the gesture in her mind. The moment seemed to stretch on forever, and you could not be certain whether the heart that was pounding in your ears was yours or hers.

Finally, blessedly, she lifted her eyes to you, a strange gleam in them you couldn’t identify. “I thought,” she began slowly, the corner of her lips curling up in a smirk, “I had asked you to join me in here.”

Before you had the opportunity to register what she had said, she grabbed your sweater by the shoulders and heaved backwards, tugging you down into the soapy water with her. You let out a delighted shout, burying your laughter into her kiss.

When she finally allowed you to twist into a comfortable position, your back flush against her torso, warm soapy water thoroughly sopping your clothing, she curled an arm around your abdomen, resting her chin daintily on the top of your head.

You stayed that way for a moment in contented silence, before finally she nosed at your crown. “I didn’t get anything for you,” she admitted, tone neutral, though you could feel the edges tinted with shame.

“Hmmm, no?” You hummed in exaggerated contemplation, turning and lifting your head in her direction. Pressing a smirk against the curve of her jaw, you murmured, “Then just win for me, okay?”


End file.
